a fathers day

May 24, 2022 by David Koblentz ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

this was a father’s day, no not that one, a real one, a day my father would have loved, the sun out in full force, humidity half hung as not to oppress, yes, this would have been a day for him, to sit out on the deck behind the house, like being a king of your own kingdom earned from 40 years of taxes and work, soaking it all in, smoking one of those awful cheap white owl cigars, his only vice (besides snacks), only on occasion in the summer, except for the magnet of the sun, basking like some ancient reptile laid out on the banks, for sure I thought that would have been the thing to do him in, some sort of skin cancer or something related, but no, of all things covid was the thing, of course he was not so perfectly healthy at 84, heart issues for years, heart attacks spanning back 20 years, but those things seem to live with you or you live with them, unfortunate companions of a sort, they keep to their side of the room mostly and you tend to yours, no, the sun, if ever there was a sun worshipper it was he, on the beach in those ridiculous beach chairs that are much more like hammocks outlined with cheap aluminum bars, your bum supported more by the sand under than the strength of the fabric stretched, the low rider of outdoor furniture, on a day like this, he would have been truly happy, a monolith, a solar panel, his old black ray-bans reminding of his youth in the 50’s, all the things you see in cliches, the white t-shirt, the sleeve rolled up with a pack of smokes even though he didn’t smoke, the convertibles he had, the caddies, the thunderbirds, I might imagine that is what he was thinking about on day’s like this, as he sat there in the sun, reliving those memories of cruising down the neighborhood, in those big old long cars, the wind in his hair when he still had most, piling in the seats with his two younger brothers, the king and his chariot, blazing across the summer sky, yes, a day like today makes me think of him more, he has been gone a year plus now, a toll of a war we did not win, just simply survived, I hope wherever he may be now, he has days like this to enjoy, as a perpetual memory, this is your day, father, father’s day, a day like this.

notes: I am not one to lionize my father, for he was human, he had his flaws, but some days, in his glory, I got it, I got him, I could see what he lost by settling down and having us kids, not that he would have changed anything, but you always leave something behind, and the things you do in youth can be so pure that they resonate through the rest of your life, I love my father, flawed as he was, the only one I had, he never abused us and always provided enough and more, so what else can you say, as the time goes by the warts and the humanity wash away, and there is only the love, the light, and I wonder if I could live in this moment with those in this life right now, that is the challenge I suppose.

Stream of beach consciousness… (aka thoughts from the beach…)

October 23, 2021 by David Koblentz ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

at the border, the line, where civilization and the beach both meet and divide, so, here I am again, under an artificial light, wondering about life, as it happens, just over there, a Friday celebratory night, lights, all colors, conversations, all comers and I, invariably, wind up here, on the night beach, the surf ahead of me with a lullaby roar, this will outlast us all and yet as well itself, just a mantle of timing really, and behind me, laughter, arguments, love, consequence, all the buildings standing tall, and I wonder for what, or why, or is that the point, and then mix in the smells, the crisp bright ocean air mixed with the offerings of the thoroughfare, is this what I have been conditioned to know, to be happy with, is this my path, for I seem to gravitste to the same places, and ask myself and the universe the very same questions, and tommorow, is yet another day forward, another chance, and yet – here I am.

there is lightning on the horizon, I do not mean that metaphorically, out -over the dark ocean water, surely miles from here but still real, the sugar feel sand is cool not cold, the weather is seasonably warm, which enables the bold or just lack of decent restrain, I seem to wait, as I do, for something to break, or is this all there is, and my place in it is just a bellwether documenting same, a snapshot, a painter, an observer, how am I to criticize from where I come and what I may yet desperately want to be a part of, at some level? I feel at home and in a strange place, but yet- I must admit my choices have brought me to this gate, my joys, my sadness, my triumphs, my worst and my best – have all led to this reservation, to this fleeting week of floating, I kept ties on my ‘real world’, I surely did, but so quickly those threads dissipated, I wonder how important they really are, like a mighty spider’s web, a wonder, hours of construction, and smashed in a a day or so, left to rebuild a masterpiece just to eat, or so it was, and so I am ready, once again, to be thrown back into the blender of life, even armed with this sojourn in calm, all these nights to contemplate my fate, my life, my dreams, the gone, the now, the in-between, can I don this armor of self realization and beat the blitz, to climb out onto that field and make my own way, past cavalry, infantry, and me, I have all the tools I need, have I now the experience to utilize them fully, once more and again…

I watch the slow river of clouds, mix like solutions, like milk swirling my morning coffee, the composition is random but ruled by laws, I would rather think of them as free dreams inspiring the earth, and the river has slid down, engulfing the moon, but some light still escapes in highlights, somewhere submerged, the moon is still there, waiting, waxing. waning, a light not to be denied, and to never succumb fully regardless of the folly, we preach beneath…

reading the leaves (not tea, stream of conch…)

August 19, 2021August 19, 2021 by David Koblentz ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

the heavy summer air is full-ripe-pregnant-hanging-low with humidity, I can see the reading of the leaves nodding that a heavy rain is coming, my hand strum-slide-strokes up over on one of my newer shoots of bamboo and the protruding nodes, not unlike a lover, perhaps as intimate – as hairs on a limb, I whisper things in my mind to my plants, and when they do well I think they comprehend, like children do, I have conversations with my garden residents, for there are far crazier and more dangerous things to do with your time, when they start answering me though, that might be the time to question this or me, for now though I will still whisper and listen to the feel, the interloper wind is sneaky and subtle, a slight coolness slips in the door, cracks, gifting a micro oasis to the opposite palm of my hands as I walk, I want to stand here forever in the right now, however, I imagine even more of a release when the weight of the rain breaks the dam, so I wait…
(a few hours later)
I drifted off to sleep, expecting to be woken by a rollicking torrent-tempest worthy of noah, well, forty minutes at least, not forty nights at best, heck, I would even take a nice ten minutes and forty seconds less to break this humidity, I would like to tell you that I peeked outside and saw evidence of such a flood impress, but no, maybe just the equivalent of spit, or a light misting, as the idea of spit conjures a visceral reaction, ‘misting’ sounds calming, like a day spa commercial and flute music, so I suppose I need to work on my communication skills with my local nature guides, and perhaps… a better weather app.

(but wait, just now… I do hear some distant thunder… like hope off rubber bounce…)

notes… as I have said before this blog is me, not just works, works I do on the spot, this is not some contrived thing, this is more a diary than anything, a diary in works as I go, and maybe you learn a thing or four, I often wonder if anyone reads any of this babble outside of ‘likes’ thrown, I wonder, but honestly it does not matter, I am going to plow forward like a… and um, plow ? (but aren’t plows towed… damn semantics)… so anyone who reads this, thanks, your time and thoughts are appreciated, I can only imagine somewhere there are those I resonate with, one, two, a thousand? not important, just anyone alive in the right now, and if you read me you understand how I value the right now…. the universe conspired to have me posting at this moment in a billion years of time… because I am, and so are you, existing right now that is…

thoughts from the porch… (a hope of light)

July 17, 2021July 17, 2021 by David Koblentz ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

(my actual vantage as I was inspired to write)

“a hope of light”
and reminders, signs, talismans, so obvious as to be screaming whispers vibrating in obedient corners, all there – hidden in the plainest of sight, a hope of light…
as today I was a wheelbarrow more than a man, drawn out like a mule, to drag payloads back and forth, never in balance like once was new, and gravity has a way of multiplying the trade pay, the yoke, the wear, and there is less lubrication these days between the ground pounding and my bearings, even I would admit the tread is worn from sun and toil, but I would argue there is still good rubber there, but after the day the wheelbarrow must go back in storage, to the garage home, bringing dings, dirt and memories caked on, reminded, nothing is ever new again once out of the box, certainly not now these years of use altered… so arrives home…
the patience I might have left the house with a full tank, that has now been spent, every inch of me ready to pounce at every little non-event, of words, of even good intent, even though I know, I am a porcupine wound, can’t everyone just see, just read, the glaring signs, and make no sound, shall I pass by, until at least I may come on down, or let the tension un-bound, I manage not to wreck the crew… somehow…
so, not wanting to tie myself into a fight or fits, I park myself outside, look upward for some guidance, to what is left of the fleeting day sky, and to be entranced by – the hope of light, that promise, the next morning, another glory yearning, and the next, until there is none, the rest seems to slip away, the tension locked in my jaw starts to fade, the pressure in my temples begins to contract, a breeze comes along to rest on my cheek, a family of deer creep along my yard, unaware of me being disarmed, for maybe a minute ago they might have sensed the will of a frothing hunter out for blood, but that base urge has melted down and gone, replaced with thankful tranquility, a cure for humanity, or perhaps just the elixir to wash away the non-humanity we engage in every day, so I bathe in – a hope of light…

thoughts… from the porch.

May 28, 2021 by David Koblentz ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

Photo by eberhard grossgasteiger on Pexels.com

I suppose I could tell you of the clouds, perfectly farmed rows of smoke pillows, so arranged you would swear they were arranged, and not randomness hiding in plain sight symmetric lines, one large one quite looks like a dirigible, passenger car and all, I pause to listen to the birds, only shadow figures now, I only know them by their words, this is slowly becoming my favorite time of night, past the hoopla, sans the fanfare, the sun has long set sail for tomorrow, or at least is quite out of this view, like a concert where the band has exited stage left, and here I am soaking in the afterglow, as if all the good feelings have mellowed and settled in, ready to rest to slumber with a day behind them, a couple walks across the street, I have seen them before, they live not too far, I see them almost every day, but yet, they might as well be the person next to me in my car, in random morning traffic, ‘was this always like this?’ I think to myself or is the past the ever gilded pony of times passed glory, like a monument marking a time but not actual circumstance of moment, a couple walking, distinct because their little one likes to run up and down the street with heavy feet for such a small frame, as if he is hitting puddles in the sidewalk concrete, all these stories walking up and down and around, sometimes colliding and making new chapters, sometimes never even seeing the cover properly, or even the insert to see the summary to see if there is interest, but I shouldn’t dwell, I feel myself melting into the landscape, human sounds and all, a train in the distance is chugging along, train, seems like such an ancient word, almost noble, my mind conjures the smoke and steam breathing machines from turns of past, not a sad lumbering parade of abused cargo containers, such that it is, but in some strange wonderful way, hypnotic, a dim earthly hum with thumps, primitive ambient grooves, there is a palpable feel to the sound, like a mechanical heart, cathartic, in the repetition, I wonder if any passer bys wonder about this guy, sitting there (here), contemplating them, or am I just another piece of the landscape, unmoving, a citizen of the background, maybe, maybe too often.

notes… this is my continuing series, just sitting outside and riffing, whatever comes to mind, hopefully coherent… hopefully… I was in a calm, after transplanting some new bamboo plants, I am up to 8 varieties now, is that weird ? beats collecting stamps in my mind and there is something calming about gardening, at least for me, maybe it is getting my hands dirty, literally feeling the earth, seeing my brood grow in fits and spurts, they all survived the winter… barely, maybe I will start a bamboo blog, and have even less views, lol or with my luck that will be the new niche of the new century… ah, maybe I will just keep being me, seems ok for now…

the symbiosis of fear and sameness…

May 24, 2021May 24, 2021 by David Koblentz ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

(this would be a stream of consciousness thought piece)

fear and sameness

I have admitted to, in the past, being very much a creature of habit, gladly trading in the tunic of uncertain discovery for the comforting blanket of normality, is this laziness? or just my contention in content that I like the similar, the familiar, I like to go on vacation to a known quantity, almost like a second home where I know the ins and outs, no surprises, I think perhaps some, I think perhaps not, sure, I should now how I am wired by this bend of my life, but have I just built adequate defenses fueled by the prescient architectural knowledge of my subconscious, am I the tide turtle that can only return to that one beach, in the cover of night, to procreate, and if said beach is gone so is my whole existence, where I would rather drown than find some other dawn? but it would be nice to compare evolutionary impulse to the fabled foibles of mankind I guess, a noble gesture that I am somehow not in charge of this whole neat mess, so, yes I tend to vacation in the same spots over and over if you have followed my little life story, even those places were new once but I researched them to the point of being paralyzed, these are my machinations, my demons, the little silent suckers that seem to drive me into directions from behind the scenes, but if the end result makes me happy… why proceed? microcosm, flash tonight, I had placed my keys somewhere other than I might, if ever would, I am a particular beast in that regard, things go places, the same places, so in a bind or a moment’s itch I don’t have to think as to where to grab and go, but no, not tonight, something is amiss, I missed where I placed my keys, and was ready to bolt out the door to grab whatever sushi bowl might be left @ the local store, my mind raced, my heart paced – upwards, I was home all day, where can they be, I searched the should be places multiple times, as if the key elves, in their divine wisdom, would magically deliver my keys, no, but I re-checked anyway, what the heck did I do different today? I visited all the places I had been in the house, not exactly too many locales, besides today my central AC was out, and the temp hit 90 – and I was working so I had to be @ my laptop checking out the call board, first world problems, I know… then I finally recalled, after almost getting my dizzy self into a tizzy, I shot some video about what I pack for fossil digging, being a nut for detail I even included my keys and wallet, damn authenticity… so, wound up with a salad instead of sushi, the full moon was out before the sun crossed the down, all so perfect looking, sitting out on my deck, low sweat from walking through the hot house, nipping at my sorbet, the neighbor’s new fence half made, playing badminton I think, life is not so bad, but perhaps I lean on my shelter, not just physical ones, fear of losing a precious day off or vacation time to a lousy cause or draw, I think my inclinations have hampered my destinations, emotionally and physically, because I am afraid of bad outcomes, even if the fall is not such a bad one, falling back into the arms of what I know, a quantifiable conclusion that I know satisfies my urges and concreted infusions, I have forgotten a simple thing, perhaps one of the most simple things… so I forced to ask myself ‘what have you really got to lose?’

all roads lead to… wherever I may…

May 5, 2021May 5, 2021 by David Koblentz ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

Rome was not built in a day…
So why am I trying to finish it all today?

So is the way we are, eyes on the prize, the charge of momentum stirring in our skin, when we are set out on the path to what we want to reach we want to sprint, when walking (or at least a decent jog) is in order, but that gleaming trophy is all encompassing, enticing, enchanting, you can feel it manifesting in your hands, so you rush toward that horizon, and maybe stumble because you are not paying attention to the rubble in the road, because rarely is there a road of pure paved perfection, trust me, I have travelled many, and many a mirage of such perfection has seduced my seeking soul, I’m not one to proclaim new year’s resolutions, but mid year ones? OK, color me guilty, but just the same, the fever, the fervor burn you feel in those first hours and first days completing those tasks that propel your mind to dream of the end of the toil, as if a field of crops to chop is all laid out before you in a flash mob instant, but- the real field, just to bare the blazing sun, the heavy sweat, breaking hands from the engage-reset equation, and you want to get it all done – in an instant, but that is the trick, the false deity at wit, you must deny your own temptation, conflagration, intoxication, for the feeling of progress truly can be a trance, so you must learn to slow this dance, to a waltz, to a halt, or even a rest, a breath, a step, a realization that a yard is full of inches, a mile full of yards laid foot by shadow, you did not arrive at the where you are in one day’s travel, nor will you get to the over there you want in just a moon shot’s sojourn travel, plodding might seem downright like… well, plodding, and so it is, focus on the steps, a one, a two, a four, but not more, soon enough you will arrive at the prized station of the horizon, your destination, it may just take some time more, so ponder in that direction, write yourself a note of discretion, goals, with morsels and meals between, so that penultimate banquet will that be much better received, when, and you will, have built your Rome, your home, in a time that suits your will – and the satisfaction will.

notes… for those in the know, well, stop reading, for those not this is stream of consciousness, me riffing on a topic in one take… of course your thoughts and comments are always appreciated, as well as any tips on growing hot peppers in my climate… and when I mean hot I am talking habanero plus… and if anyone wants bamboo tips for northern climates… I have 6 types currently on my property – and I am expanding… I love the stuff, bamboo is an evergreen and there are many varieties that can survive here in north new jersey, lawns are boring… go exotic and more natural.

thoughts… from the porch…

April 22, 2021 by David Koblentz ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

(a stream of consciousness experiment going on four years now…)

this is, well was, the first truly day of spring, no, not the first nice day, but one that seems to announce the semi-permanent arrival, I’d love to paint you some ethereal picture of beautiful perfections, but that is not to be today turning into night, the air, is a soothing temperature though, a soft flow, however, in one direction I pick up the heavy scent of lawn chemicals like a teen with too much drakar doused on, I almost feel for the pests and grubs that must absorb that cruel gruel, I used to think a wonderous sparkling lawn was a wonderous thing, no more, I loathe such a faux carpet as more of a waste of resources these days, and a desert of imagination, not half as alluring as a mix of exotic and native plants that change like chameleons with the seasons, the pandemic must be slowing a bit, just from the sounds of the world, or the ones drowned now out, for there is a not so subtle undertow roar of cars in the distance, emanating from the local four lane road, oak tree road – as if that name imparts some gravitas of nature to course pavement and the sounds thereof, of course, there is the delightful, occasional throttle mash dash, a bugle call for ego small down our town’s little famous stretch, a couple of robins are chattering, not some euphony as you might think, the sound more like a cantankerous old married couple arguing, knowing there is no point in this dos-e-doe, knowing they have an audience’s ear for their nonsense, besides their own (and they are the only ones enjoying this show), robins are not songbirds I tell you, at least not those of this local herd, well… at least my various bamboo plants are blooming, in actuality shooting up new spikes left and right – which does not sound as nice or flowery, but a new generation looking to take a place in the some-day-ending parade, this past winter was very harsh on my crop, they look like a blonde wig that has been tossed about the mall parking lot floor for a few weeks or more, you can clearly see the glory that once was, like an outline, or a memory, but you surely would not pick it up to wear it; a commercial airliner is roaring out there somewhere, horizon-ish, hidden by the darkened clouds, not quite dark enough to see the beacons blinking indicating and exact location, a lone goose passes by, one honk, no formation to amaze by, this only confirms the underwhelming litany of this night, yet… even with all this, and that damn dog barking it’s head off some blocks away, the people walking by yapping loudly on their important calls, the last blasts of the mating calls of leaf-blowers in landscaper hands, somewhere, even in this, this imperfection, my eye is taken, to a small broken branch, barely more than a mere twig, I watch as it swings back and forth like some hypnotic pendulum, am I getting sleepy? no, just the back and forth and the back and forth, breathing in… and breathing out… and I am found, all of time, all of history, have brought me right here, the enemies of my revelation send various types of gas chariots down the street to distract me, but they only make me realize, and crack a wry smile, I found peace in place, the subtle trick, the wave, a fractured stick, sometimes… is all it takes.

notes… I wanted something dissonant… and probably something you never heard, I have eclectic tastes to be sure… but this evening felt like an immersion and birthing all in one…

pine soul…

April 4, 2021April 4, 2021 by David Koblentz ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

(a spur of the moment / freeform post)

snow, -the weight, snow had broken the back of a tree, an old pine, not tall, but stout, the kind you could make a teapot song about, covered the view to the boring side of the neighbor’s house, taken for granted until now, now split in two from the sheer weight of snow more than a few weeks ago, so, even though the hour is late for such things, evening, the air is crisp, borderline cold, but just enough, enough to be a refreshing refreshment rather than an impediment to work, no breeze tonight, no breeze to chill the hairs on my arms to stand at arms, just the sharp clean air as an infusion and invitation to engage the evening, and then the pine, pine has such a distinct smell, how could I forget, as I clipped off the branches outward in, with large hand clippers, with almost bonsai-like detail, such a divine smell, one of those things a memory never forgets, a transportation to the first time in a forest, or touching the sap on cones thrown like footballs as a child, or cones laced with peanut butter and nuts strung up for a squirrels delight, pine, one of the only green statues to stand up to winter, even now as the season is changing, forsythia has shone golden light on the dulled lands, ramps have burst through like tufts of rebellious hair forts, here and there, daffodils round out the crew, even here, at night, trimming the branches down of this broken pine, soon will come the giving rains, and the explosion of life, the glory of spring, but now this sits a time, somewhere between dawn and full sunrise, ah, the smell of pine, as I trim and opine...

colander (if only)

March 21, 2021March 21, 2021 by David Koblentz ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

(stream of consciousness / thought post)

as per my usual musings, I was driving to work this morning, listening to some tunes, perhaps bopping along and singing, so if you saw a guy on the GSP kind of looking foolish this morning, that would have been me, most likely, so anyway, the word ‘strainer’ materialized in my upper ether realm, the idea, so simple, yet so impossible (or?), if I could only pour myself (metaphorically or perhaps spiritually speaking) into a strainer, to let the best parts settle in and let the rest strain out to escape down into the drain of forgotten past lives… why on earth did I think that I had to choose, between one of those old school metal mesh ones, the plastic ones or one that is flat out strange– I don’t know, but my inner voice was telling me so, and to choose wisely it seems, so I did, and for whatever reason (I told myself to myself it was ‘old school’), I picked the metal mesh type for this imagined realization, so I crammed in all of me to let the process begin, this seemed like a simple mental exercise, one to exorcize my demons or just feelings I no longer cared to have taking up space in my inner abode, the cracks in my what seemed to be a perfect argument started to unfold in the folds of my brainium, just like pouring in cooked pasta, what if there was overflow? you never pick up the bits that fall in the sink, perhaps you toss them to the dog, but does that make them less than the strained survivors? what if that is a piece of parchment that has the cypher to unlock the code in the remaining strands? panicked now, I thought I had such a simple elegant solution, instead I am being titanic-ed by minutia, also, when you strain some things, inevitably some gets through, perceptible or not, something is lost in the process, more than you might want, or more that you might not never know, besides, everything, all your stuff kind of gets mashed down, sure the top looks perfect and all the extraneous liquid is gone – but – the bottom thoughts or stands are being pushed up against the wall sort of like the crush at the stage in a concert hall… damn, my metaphor has faltered and failed me now, I suppose there is no quick solution for unpacking myself…

perhaps I need to approach this like going through an old closet, looking at each thing, making a determination, and travelling forward or backward from there, this takes more time, but perhaps offers less orphans, cast offs, miscreants, regrets, all of these, rather than examine flipping about a trapeze, on the ground, grounded, methodical with a giant magnifying lens, to relish the details, the flaws, live them once again, and then – perhaps, then fold them back up neatly or dispense of them.

Shades of My Garden

a window into a life, a conversation with a soul, a gateway to a heart

Tag: stream of thought